


Homicidal Muffins on legs

by Web0741



Category: Airwolf
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:41:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28817247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Web0741/pseuds/Web0741
Summary: I found a photo of Alex Cord with a kitten. Wondered what would happen if Archangel had pets, and how would he get them. This was the result. Usual disclaimer: Not my characters, no one else is using them. I'm just playing.
Kudos: 5





	Homicidal Muffins on legs

The fiery rays of sunset were long gone, but still he worked, his left elbow on the desk and his long fingers pressed against his temple, trying to stifle the beginnings of a headache. Sheets of paper were poured over, cross-referenced with a pen, and piled on the opposite corner of the large desk to the pile they had originated from. He had been working on this for days.

Tiredness engulfed his brain. He leant back in the large, white leather office chair, stretching his legs under the desk, arching and stretching his back to relieve the knots in his shoulders. He stretched his arms up, tucking his hands behind his head and yawning.

Not only was he tired, he was also starving. He glanced at the clock. Almost nine. Still time to get something to eat at the steakhouse a few miles down the road.

Decision made, he picked up the silver topped cane leaning against the desk and headed out of the office.

The night security guard sat at the desk in the entrance lobby. He looked up from studying the CCTV monitors at the sound of footsteps from the staircase. The tall athletic figure dressed in white was a familiar sight.

“ Good evening, Mr Briggs. Heading home now?” He enquired with a grin, knowing what the answer would be.

Michael Coldsmith Briggs III snorted and the corners of his mouth curled into a slight grin. “Joe, you know me better than that! Hunger has caught up with me. I’m going to the Steakhouse. Can I bring you back anything?”

The older man looked wistful. “Well, ya know how much I love that Key Lime Pie…” he looked down at the buttons on his uniform, straining at the buttonholes “ But Marie says I need to lose a few pounds before the wedding. Can’t walk my baby girl down the aisle with this now, can I?”

*******AW*******

The black Porsche was the only car left in the car park. Michael grinned as he unlocked the door and lowered himself in. He didn’t need a Porsche, and the heavy clutch made his knee ache. Perhaps he should have bought the automatic, but driving was one of the few pleasures left to him now. He floored the accelerator and sped away with a squeal of rubber on tarmac. In a few minutes, he was pulling into the crowded parking lot outside the restaurant.

Walking in to the steakhouse he could hear laughter and chatter. A large and noisy gathering for a birthday, with the gaudy banner giving the reason away. Too loud for Michael.

“ Mr Briggs, Sir. Good to see you! I think we can find a table for you…” The maître d’ looked around.

“Don’t worry. Take out will be fine.” The noise was causing his head to pound. “ Rib eye steak and the usual sides, please. I’m going to wait outside. I could use some fresh air.”

“ Not a problem, sir. I’ll bring it out to you when it’s ready.”

The night air was unseasonably warm for October. Michael took off his white jacket and put it back in the car. Perhaps Tylenol would help his headache? There was a convenience store a short distance away where he could get some, and the walk might help.

He set off, cane in hand. He hadn’t got far when he heard a scrabbling noise and mewling. He paused, and the noise stopped, his imagination maybe, or rats. “Miaow, mew.” There it was again.

He was standing at the top of a narrow alley that ran behind the steak house. There were several dumpsters in the alley and Michael walked down, listening for the noise. It was getting louder.

At the second dumpster he heard a scraping sound and more mewling. Turning on the small flashlight on his key chain, he lifted the lid and peered inside.

A movement in the corner caught his eye. An old pillow slip tied up with string. Something inside was wriggling and mewling.

He picked it up and opened it. Two tiny feline faces peered up at him. Blue kitten eyes and fluffy ears. One tiny black scrap and one even smaller tabby scrabbling to climb out. He smiled as he stroked them, the black kitten trying to suckle on his pinkie finger, and the small tabby nudging the palm of his hand.

“What kind of lowlife scum would throw you two out with the trash then?” He muttered. “I guess you’re coming with me then.” He gently put the two kittens back in the pillow slip. “I’m sorry, I’ve got nothing else to put you in. We’ll find something better soon, I promise.” 

Holding his unexpected companions close to his chest, he set off to the store.

The shopping list was getting longer.

*******AW*******

He was in luck as he browsed the shelves, adding painkillers, evaporated milk and canned cat food to his basket. Kitty litter. Would he need kitty litter? Given the dampness of the wriggling pillow slip, a dampness now seeping through his white vest, very probably. But what to put the litter in? A further search of the shelves found some disposable baking trays that would suffice.

The cashier was a sullen faced young man chewing gum. He looked at the squirming package Michael was carrying as if an alien might explode out, and stepped back from the counter.

Michael deposited his purchases on the counter and asked, “ Do you have any boxes out back I could put these in?” He gestured to the wriggling bundle.

The boy stared blankly at him, so Michael continued. “I found two kittens, it’s not ideal carrying them in this...” he held the wriggling sack up, revealing the damp patch on his white vest. “ I think we would all be more comfortable if they were housed more appropriately”.

A hint of comprehension crossed the boy’s face, and he pressed the buzzer next to the cash register. Soon a young girl appeared. “ Take over. I’m gonna get a box for this guy.” He disappeared through a door at the back of the store, and soon reappeared with a selection of boxes, parcel tape and twine. Perhaps the youngster wasn’t as dumb as he first appeared.

Michael left the store a few minutes later with a small bag under his arm, and a box that had once held cans of soup, now taped firmly around the base, air holes perforating the top and tied tight with twine. He arrived back at the steakhouse in time to collect his meal and headed back to the office.

*******AW*******

Joe unlocked the door to allow Michael to enter the building. “You sure got ya hands full there, Mr Briggs. Let me help ya.” Joe took the box, staring at it with a frown. The box moved as if loaded with oversized jumping beans. “ what ya got here then?”

Michael smiled “Cats.”

Joe chuckled. “Really? Ya Know pets aren’t allowed on the premises, unless they’re seein’ eye dogs.” He pondered for a moment “Or guard dogs.”

“Joe, these aren’t pets.” Michael glanced at the box in Joe’s hands and arched his eyebrows. “ I rescued them from a dumpster.” He whispered conspiratorially, “We can keep this between you and me, no one else needs to know.”

Joe undid the twine and peered in. “Oh my, They’re just scraps of nuthin...’” He sniffed, “..and in need of a bath.” He grinned at Michael and wrinkled his nose. “Judgin’ by the smell comin’ off you, you’re goin’ in the same tub.”

Michael looked down at his damp and stained vest and smirked. If Santini could see him now, he’d have a field day in the joke department.

“Joe, the three of us need feeding.” Michael held up the bags containing his rapidly cooling take out, and the bag from the convenience store. He placed the bag with groceries on the security guard’s desk.

Joe opened it and examined the contents before addressing Michael. “Tell ya what Mr Briggs, you go eat, an’ I’ll get the lil’ guys sorted then bring ‘em up. That work for ya?”

Michael grinned. “Joe, that’s great. I owe you one.” He took the painkillers out of the bag and headed up the stairs to his office, stopping at the kitchen to collect silverware.

It was now almost eleven pm. Back in his office, Michael changed into one of the spare suits he kept in the closet by the door, bundling the urine soaked clothes into the suit cover ready to go to the cleaners.

His takeout was no longer hot, but he was hungry and devoured it straight from the cartons. Wiping his lips with the paper napkin supplied, he popped two pills from the bottle and reached into the bottom drawer of his desk where he kept a bottle of scotch and a glass. Pills and booze weren’t a good combination, but a small glass wouldn’t hurt.

He was savouring the aroma of the scotch when there was a knock on the door. “Come in, Joe.”

Joe was carrying a smaller box than the one Michael had brought from the store.

“Kits all clean and fed, sir.” Joe smiled down at them. “ Sleeping like… well… like kittens, I guess.” He put the box on the desk. “ They’ll need feedin’ again in a couple of hours, and the lil’ black scrap only wants to suck from a finger”.

Michael peered in the box at the two sleeping kits curled around each other in a nest of dusters. Reaching in with his long manicured fingers, he tickled the black one gently on the now fat and round belly. Two tiny paws wrapped round his finger with claws that he could barely feel. He smiled. Work could wait.

*******AW*******

It wasn’t long before the kittens stirred. Tiny soft ears and noses rubbing gently around his fingers. Purrs like small engines as he tickled, and tiny paws that batted his fingers as they scrambled to climb out of the box.

He could fit a kitten in each hand as he picked them out of the box and put them on the floor. The tabby scrambled up his left leg on to his lap, then launched itself off, legs akimbo back to the floor, only to repeat the climb and flight again and again.

A scrap of paper scrunched into a small ball kept the black kitten scrabbling across the floor.

Michael moved from the white leather office chair to the long black leather couch in front of the desk. The small black kitten at his heels, clutching the paper ball in its mouth. The tabby was more adventurous and had found the vertical blinds, scrambling up them.

He grinned as the kit reached the top of the blinds and leapt off, rolling across the desk and skidding to a halt on the floor surrounded by the papers that had followed his fall.

He laughed and reached down to scoop the two kittens up into his arms. Leaning back on the couch, he stroked the two kits until they purred themselves back to sleep. “If you two are staying, then you’ll need names.”

He tickled the tabbies tummy. “ You and your flying leaps, like a scrappy dinosaur.”

“And you.” he glanced at the black kit, curled in the crook of his arm, still clutching the white paper ball in its teeth. “Snowball and Pterodactyl.” He smiled and closed his eyes.

*******AW*******

Dawn had come and gone, sunlight streaming in through the window when the office door opened. A tall, dark-haired woman walked in, wearing a white blouse and white knee-length pencil skirt. Slender dark bronze legs ended with feet clad in white pumps. She paused and stared at the scene that greeted her.

Michael sprawled across the black leather couch, snoring with two kittens curled together on his chest. Paperwork scattered across the floor, saucers with remains of cat food and milk, and an all pervading aroma of… she sniffed… urine.

She tiptoed through the mess on the floor and sniffed the air around the couch. The smell didn’t emanate from there. She tiptoed through the chaos, her nose leading her to the odor emanating from the closet. Opening the door, the stench was overpowering. She pulled the offending suit, and it’s cover out.

She cleared her throat loudly, twice. “Sir?” No reaction. She headed back to the couch and shook his shoulder. He startled, his eye darting round the room before settling on her. He smiled sleepily.

“Marella? You’re early.” He sat up slowly, the kittens falling into his lap. He picked up Snowball, handing her to Marella.

Marella took the black kitten, staring into its blue eyes, the small paws trying to bat her face. She grinned and tickled its ears. “ Not so early, Sir. It’s eight thirty, and you have back-to-back meetings starting in an hour.” She sniffed the surrounding air with a twitch of her nose. “And we need to get you freshened up and...” her eyes scanned the chaos in his office. “...This. I’m not even going to ask where the cats came from, just what do you want me to do with them?”

His brain still fuddled with sleep, he didn’t quite understand the question. “I found them last night. What do you mean, do with the cats?”

Marella huffed in an exasperated manner. “ I could arrange to take them to the animal shelter, Sir.”

Did he want them to go to the shelter? He could be sure at least that they’d find them a good home. He gazed at Marella now holding both kittens, smiling and tickling two fat tummies. There were no guarantees that the pair would be homed together. He’d grown very fond of them in such a short time and… “ I’m taking them home with me.”

Marella shot a startled look at him.

He shrugged his shoulders and stood, taking Snowball from Marella’s arm. “ I spend far too much of my life in this office and it gives me a reason to go home at night.”

Marella smirked. “You’re going to have to rethink your wardrobe you know. Cat hair on a white suit is not a good look.” She handed Ptery to him and picked cat hairs from her blouse. Smoothing the fabric of her skirt, she picked up his suits and headed to the door. “ I’ll get Sondra to take this suit to the cleaners and buy a cat basket. We’ll make a start on this mess.”

He smirked. “We?”

She grinned “You made the mess, you can at least help clean it… Sir.”

The emphasis on the Sir made him laugh. “ Have I told you how bossy you are, Marella?”

“Not in the last week.”

He glared at her. “You weren’t here last week!”

She laughed. “Exactly!”

  
  
  


  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
